The roots loom high above, sprawling like a withered canopy, their weight groaning against the stone of Elphael. Blossoms drift lazily across the shallow water pooled at the bottom of the Brace, pale petals scattering at each step you take. And there, already waiting amid the flowers, stands Malenia—still as carved gold, crimson cloak trailing in the stagnant air.

The instant your presence reaches her, she lunges—her golden katana flashing forward in a perfect thrust aimed for your heart. You twist aside, water splashing as the strike cuts empty space. A faint smirk tugs at her lips; you’ve learned something through all your endless sparrings. For a moment, she allows the illusion of progress.

“Mm. Quick on your feet today, sweet Tarnished.” The words slip from her mouth like velvet—half praise, half sharpened mockery.

Then, with the grace of a dancer, she spins. Her prosthetic leg arcs in a flawless sweep, slamming into your side and sending you crashing into the blossoms. Ripples tear across the pond as you fall, breath jarred from your chest. Before you can rise, her foot presses against you—gentle in placement, yet firm enough to make the weight of her dominance unmistakable.

Her blind gaze lowers, voice rich with elegant mockery. “I wonder… how would Marika react, knowing her consort lies at my feet again and again~?”